We Left In Pieces
by hime the stars shine bright
Summary: Like hell I'd be. Four words that were never meant for Rukia's ears. Or were they? Side-story to Ch.424.


She was never supposed to go back.

Under orders of the Soutaicho, Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji- and anyone else who might try- were not allowed to maintain contact with ex-shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo. It was final.

Rukia couldn't take it.

So, against orders, she went anyways.

She came.

Quietly, she slipped through the senkaimon, landing daintily on her feet. Nobody knew she was here. She had to come, just one more time. Just to see-

if he still needed her.

She did this often. She had noticed how distraught he was in the beginning, those first months after their forced separation. But after a while, things just slowed down. Ichigo fell into a regular routine, and he seemed to remember her less and less.

Slowly, slowly, she faded from his mind. From his memory, his life.

Slowly, slowly, from his heart.

(But she refused to ponder on such a thing.)

She comforted him, sometimes. When she came in the darkest hour of the night, and he'd be asleep, painfully tossing and turning in sweat-soaked sheets, nightmares seizing the small amount of time he had where he could just relax and _black out to the reality he hated so much. _

And she would comfort him, gripping his hand gently, trying her best to soothe him however she could. It was hard to do so when he couldn't see or hear her. She wondered if he had ever recognized her touch on those nights, if he'd ever awakened to it. She figured even if he did, he'd assume he'd dreamt of it- hence the nightmares.

Rukia stood on the rooftop of a small shop, violet eyes sharp and calculating. He'd be at school now- this, she knew. She closed her eyes for a moment, a gentle breeze shifting a few short, silk-like raven strands over her shoulder, and exhaled softly.

She could not be seen. By anyone. Not Inoue, not Ishida, not Sado... nobody.

Nobody could know she was here. Nobody could detect her. Not a soul. If someone did, she would use kikanshinki. It was as simple as that.

Rukia drew in a deep breath, glancing up at the light blue sky. The sun radiated a light warmth on her pale skin, warming her shikahusho and comforting her nerved feelings. The weather in Karakura really was lovely today. It just didn't seem appropriate for her reason to be here.

Knowing she couldn't wait around too long, Rukia took her best shot and shunpo-ed straight over to the school. Only a few of the students at Karakura High could see spirits; as long as she stayed wary of Arisawa-san, Inoue, Sado, and a few others, she would be fine.

Quickly and quietly, she stopped onto the roof of the school, feet landing elegantly on the dark, brown-red tiles, and looked down, violet eyes scanning. Most of the students were in the courtyard and grounds now, which probably meant it was break.

She continued in shunpo, in case anybody who could see spirits spotted her, she would just looked like a blur to them. A figment of their imagination- that is what Rukia was. She glanced around, searching anywhere for a mop of orange hair or hazel eyes with those all too familiar slanted eyebrows set in a sweet scowl- when she passed by a section of the roof and heard a familiar voice.

_"...think it's kinda cold that she hasn't come back even once?"_

Rukia halted suddenly, standing silently, behind a cement wall, and peeked over just slightly, and yes, her assumptions were correct. Asano Keigo was there, and so was-

-So was Ichigo.

He had gotten taller over the years, she knew. His face had a more mature look to it. He had a shave now, too. He was no longer the naive, simple minded boy of 15, who had broken into Soul Society and overconfidently raised hell there before saving her life, both physically and emotionally. Rather, he was a young man now, taller and a mature look set in his face. Still, he didn't seem like the same Ichigo that saved her from the Kikou, even though it was. There was no sparkle in his eyes; no confidence in his voice, no stride in his walk.

_"No, it's not. She's not the representative of Karakura Town, to begin with. It's normal for her not to come."_ Ichigo's voice was unmoved, but she could still feel the hidden tones of annoyance laced in it. There were talking about her. Oddly, Rukia couldn't help but feel as if she were intruding. These words were ones that weren't meant to be heard by her.

_Or were they?_

It was true, Rukia thought. Ichigo was right, she wasn't the rep of Karakura Town. But not normal for her to come? She shook her head, as if to comfort herself. He couldn't mean that. Her eyes flickered down to the floor in front of her.

Rukia had too, come. She always came. Very quietly, usually when the house was still and quiet, in the midst of the night, through Ichigo's window- it often reminded her of their first meeting, with her phasing through his bedroom wall and landing delicately on his table. Carefully slipping through, completely undetected. She made sure nobody knew of her presence. She would never hang around very long, in fear his sisters of father may awaken and find her there.

She didn't stay long, but she always came. It wasn't her fault he couldn't see that.

"...Aren't you lonely?"

Rukia snapped back into attention at Keigo's question; his voice sounded skeptical and unbelieving. Her eyes widened involuntarily, and she thought to herself, _it was almost as if Keigo was asking __**her**__ the question-_

Yes, she had missed him. _So much_. Every day, a little bit more. She would always remember things- little, tiny unimportant scenes, of them walking home together, eating lunch, teasing each other over something trivial. She would remember that too-rare smile of his, to the full-on grin derived from pure happiness- that only _she_ had seen, along with his random acts of kindness.

Then she would remember other things- of hollows and falling rain and Ichigo's head on her lap. She remembered leaving him alone, thinking that his end was near, and she remembered coming back to him through the school window and how his face was etched in clear surprise after turning around almost dramatically and saying her name, as if in disbelief, eyes wide. She remembered being saved from the giant espada, staring up at him, at his tattered shikahusho, Tensa Zangetsu clutched in his grasp tightly, blade gleaming. And then, right after Aizen's sealing, where he stood up, grinning, bright orange hair shaggy and messy over his neck, but _still the same Ichigo._

And then her mind would always wander back to their last moments together. To, _"What? Don't look so sad. Even if you can't see me, but I can still see you." _and, _"What? That doesn't make me happy at __**all! **__And I wasn't making a sad face, either!" _The last time he really _saw_, before becoming blind to her and her world.

She held her breath, wondering. Ichigo couldn't have forgotten about her, could he? It had been almost two years. She felt the sleeve of her shihakusho tighten around her arm for some reason before she realized that it was because she was gripping it too hard; wondered just what she would do if Ichigo could see her again, what she'd say to him, she wondered if she would be able to tell him how hard this had been- to be completely cut away from him; to speak to and not get a reply, to look but be ignored. She wondered if Ichigo felt as silenced as she did, if their undefinable relationship could still be maintained after so long; she wondered if Ichigo still cared for her the way she cared for him, and-

"Like hell I'd be."

She froze. Violet eyes stared down at the ground, wide and shocked, until they are so dry from not blinking that they burn and water.

"This is the normal life I've worked sixteen years to get. I'm fine with peace until I die."

Whether or not Keigo responded to Ichigo, Rukia would never know. All noise seemed to dull out after Ichigo's words.

Seconds went by, but they felt like decades. The grip on her sleeve slackens, while the one on her heart tightens just a bit more. She closes her eyes and, when she feels a faint burning in her chest, reminds herself to just _breathe._

Rukia turns on her heel right then, hair whipping across her face as she does, and shunpos away- to somewhere, _anywhere. _Everything is a blur when she uses shunpo, and she likes it like that. Let everything be a blur, just for a little while. Things didn't need to be so vivid.

So painfully _real._

She leaves immediately, letting the senkaimon swallow her, along with the hell butterfly, when she stops in the middle of her walk throught the gate. She tips slightly to the side, her shoulder bumping against the wall, and she slumps slightly and lets just _one_ tear roll down her face, the black swallowtail fluttering innocently around her hair.

Loneliness greets her back in Soul Society, brown eyes shining.


End file.
